


The Not-So Ordinary Life of Anwen Cooper-Williams

by mydeira



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots from the life of Gwen and Rhys' daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Not-So Ordinary Life of Anwen Cooper-Williams

It was on Anwen’s fifth birthday that her parents started to worry. Well, Gwen was secretly pleased, but Rhys wanted as much normalcy for their daughter as their crazy lives would allow.

“That’s the one you wanted, isn’t it, sweetheart?” her grandmother asked.

Anwen nodded but continued to frown down at the doll.  “I wanted her because she looks so much like Mummy.”

Everyone present had to agree, the doll did bear a striking resemblance to Gwen.

“But…” Anwen hesitated. “Well, her things are wrong.”

“I have to agree, I don’t think Gwen would wear that shade of pink,” Rhys commented.

Anwen shook her head. “I like the dress. Mummy would look like a princess in that. It’s the other…things.”

Gwen crouched down beside her daughter and peered at the doll. “You mean the accessories.”

At this, Anwen nodded emphatically and looked at her mother. “She needs that bracelet Uncle Jack gave you. And guns. How can she defend us if she doesn’t have guns?”

*** 

“Nuh-uh. That’s not how Mummy said it happened.”

Gwen stopped by her daughter’s partially closed bedroom door. Rhys hadn’t mentioned that any of Anwen’s friends were over.

“Course not. Your mum was never keen on looking like a fool.”

Gwen’s heart stopped.

Anwen giggled. “Shh. She or Da might hear you.”

Oh, God… It couldn’t be.

Steeling herself, Gwen inched the door open as quietly as she could, seeing first her daughter seated at the tiny table, then the green tea set that had been Gwen’s when she was little. Seated to her daughter’s right was mini-Mum, as Anwen called the doll, and across from her, looking quite like he belonged there—

“Mummy, I didn’t know you were home!” The girl leaped up and ran to give Gwen a hug. “Da said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.”

“Got done early.” Gwen stared at her daughter’s companion who smirked back, the insufferable bastard. “Sweetheart, who were you talking to?”

“Who?” The girl’s eyes were wide and deceptively innocent. “Oh, you mean Owen. He’s my imaginary friend. Don’t worry, I know he’s not real.”

That earned a snort from Owen.

Anwen glared at him. “She won’t believe me if you don’t keep quiet.”

Gwen bit back a smile and leaned close to her daughter’s ear. “Awen, I can see him.”

Anwen sighed. “Thanks a lot, Owen. Now you’ve got me in trouble.”

Gwen lost it, laughing so hard she had to grasp the doorjamb for support.

For his part, Owen took a dainty sip of his fake tea. “It’s what I do best.”

*** 

They were up in London for a holiday and decided to pop in and visit Rhys’ cousin and his family.

The lean, sandy-haired man who answered the door immediately grinned when he realized who they were. “Rhys Williams, about bloody time you stopped by!”

The two men embraced.

Rhys stepped back and made introductions. “Rory, I’d like you to meet my wife, Gwen, and our daughter, Anwen.”

“Hello,” Gwen said.

Anwen just stared.

“Anwen,” Rhys prompted, “what do you say?”

“I know you from somewhere,” she said.

“Probably the nose,” Rory said, nonplussed. “Us big nosed blokes all look the same. Come on through. Amy’s out back attempting to start the grill.”

They had a pleasant afternoon catching up, but Anwen kept staring at Rory. Finally, something clicked and she dug through her knapsack until she found the book she wanted. Uncle Jack had given it to her for Christmas. Said that even though it was from the future, since it was about a past that didn’t happen she could have it.

Anwen carried the book over to Rory. She tugged on his shirt to get his attention. “You’re Rory the Roman,” she announced.

Everyone in the yard went very quiet and Rory suddenly looked paler than Owen on a sunny day.

“You are though, aren’t you?” she pressed. “Like in the book.”

Slowly Rory took the book from her. “ _The Adventures of Rory the Roman_ …by M.A. Pond?”

“Oh…I’m going to kill River.” Amy’s face now matched her hair.

Rory was paging through the book. “These are your drawings Amy.”

“I gave them to her. She said she liked seeing her dad all heroic and Roman. I didn’t think she’d do anything with them.”

Rory looked at Anwen.  “Where did you get this?”

“My Uncle Jack bought it for me. He travels a lot and told me it was written by a friend of his.” Deciding to seize the moment, Anwen asked, “Would you mind signing it for me? Romans don’t use guns, but Rory the Roman is still pretty awesome.”

“Uh, sure…why not?”

*** 

During her gap year, Anwen finally got to go on a trip with Uncle Jack. Of course her mum and dad thought she was in America with a couple mates from school and they’d be mad when the found out—they _always_ found out—but at least it would be too late for them to stop her.

Unfortunately she hadn’t counted on Uncle Jack’s knack for getting killed stranding her on a moon several galaxies and a few millennia from home. She knew he’d get back to there eventually, but boy, she hoped it was before too much time passed. Anwen didn’t want her folks freaking out about her suddenly looking closer to thirty than barely twenty.

That she wouldn’t be fine never entered her mind.

When she finally heard a strange wheezing, groaning, almost but not quite mechanical sound she knew it was time to go home.

The blue box was even bluer than she’d dreamed, even bluer than the one in _The Adventures of Rory the Roman and the Blue Box_. Which meant she was finally going to meet the Doctor. Uncle Jack totally rocked.

But it wasn’t Uncle Jack who opened the door, or any of the Doctors. It was a woman with wild red hair and a grin that put Uncle Jack’s to shame.

“You must be Anwen Cooper-Williams. I bet you’d like a lift.”

“Depends,” Anwen said as she walked over. “We’re not going straight back to Earth are we?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Excellent.” Anwen stopped on the threshold and stared at the woman. “Oh, my God…you’re M.A. Pond, aren’t you?”

The woman grinned. “These days I go by River Song, but that’s me too.”

If she’d been mad at Uncle Jack, Anwen would have forgiven him in a heartbeat. But now he’d just won a free pass on every birthday and Christmas for forever.


End file.
